Portraits of Les Misérables
by JackieStarSister
Summary: Short glimpses of the thoughts of major and minor characters in the book. Chapter 8: "Montparnasse's Discovery." Coming soon: Cosette on patience, Azelma on America. Requests considered. Please review!
1. Sister Simplice's Word

_Published March 10, 2012_

After the frightful ordeal in Montreuil-sur-mer, Sister Simplice's prayers were focused on Fantine's journey to Heaven, the welfare of Cosette and Monsieur Madeleine (for she would never think of him except by that name), and her actions on that fateful night.

Sister Simplice felt some anxiety lingering on her conscience. She was uncertain whether or not her deception was a sin that needed to be confessed. Humility and the law told her yes; logic and loyalty told her no.

_And You, Lord? What do You tell me?_

For the first time, the Catholic nun dared to begin to understand why Martin Luther may have seen Confession as unnecessary. A person could pray for forgiveness and make peace with God on their own. Where a person may say you had done wrong, God may say you had done right.

Would it have been right for her to put a good man in prison for the sake of telling the truth? Sister Simplice thought not.

A child would have justified such a lie by saying that it was not told out of selfishness.

How could she repent for something she did not regret? She rather thought she would feel more guilty if she had turned Madeleine in, than she did for helping him escape.

In a way, it almost seemed fair, that she had sacrificed her own spiritual well-being to set Madeleine and Cosette free. In this way she was almost as enigmatic as Jean Valjean had been before he went to the trial at Arras; both were faced with choosing their own spirituality or the well-being of others.

Sister Simplice never blamed the man for making her act and think in such a way. She didn't help the convict Jean Valjean; she had never known him. She had aided Monsieur Madeleine, the compassionate and merciful mayor of Montreuil-sur-mer, repaying him for all that he had given the town.

She carried the secret to her grave, not out of guilt or shame, but to protect Madeleine, so he could stay free and take care of Fantine's daughter.

**Author's Note:** In the anime series _Les Misérables: Shoujo Cosette_ (which doesn't have its own category for fan fiction), Sister Simplice justifies her actions by defining Jean Valjean and Mayor Madeleine as two different people; I kind of paraphrased what she said.


	2. Jean Valjean's Gratitude

_Published May 21, 2012_

After his pivotal encounter with the Bishop of Digne, it took Jean Valjean years to learn how to pray. He had forgotten any prayers he learned as a child; now he had to teach himself. He found it easier to talk to himself than to talk to the Almighty. It was something he had to practice at.

He felt selfish when he prayed for himself. So, over time, he tried to focus instead on praying for others.

Why had he gone to prison in the first place? Because he tried to steal bread to save his sister's family – the family that he almost forgot in his long life. He was sometimes ashamed that he thought of them so rarely; he had to remind himself to pray for them. He wasn't able to save them. But because he failed there, he was able to save others elsewhere.

Jean Valjean later realized that Fauchelevent was right: it was ungrateful of him to forget the people he helped and saved.

He had gained the trust of the residents of Montreuil-sur-mer only after saving that baby from a fire. Looking back, Jean Valjean thought that fire may have been a godsend, since in the confusion no one had bothered to look into his past.

He had risked – really forfeited – his own freedom to spare Champmathieu from a life on the chain gang. But because of that, he was able to live with an almost-clear conscience afterwards.

He saved a man, whose name he did not know, who fell overboard the _Orion_, and that had given him an opportunity to escape and find Cosette.

Jean Valjean made a habit of praying for all the people he had saved, and all those who had saved him – people like the Bishop, and Sister Simplice, and Fauchelevent. There was the old woman who had directed him to the Bishop's house when he could find no shelter. Even the man who drove the fiacre for Javert, Marius, and himself, after the émeute, was a hero without whom they might have been lost.

Jean Valjean thanked God for the miraculous circumstances in all of their lives, and blessed everyone he encountered.


	3. Marius's Notebook

_Published on "Barricade Day," June 6, 2012._

When Marius was eight years old, his Aunt Gillenormand gave him his first notebook, and instructed him in how to write in it. She encouraged him to write regularly – one of the few things Marius learned from his aunt.

As he grew older, he found that didn't like the rigid structure of a diary. So instead of writing to an imaginary recipient about what he did each day, he simply wrote down some of his more important thoughts. Eventually he learned to do this as soon as ideas occurred to him. To save time, he developed the habit of carrying a notebook and a pencil in his coat pocket when he went out.

Writing things down helped Marius to remember them. He also found that he liked looking back to see what thoughts had entered his mind only to be forgotten until he refreshed his memory.

Marius took very little with him when he left Grandfather Gillenormand's house. As he packed his bags, he found he could not bring himself to leave behind or destroy his old notebooks. They were a part of his past, of his life, that he wanted to hold on to.

During his times of loneliness, his current notebook proved to be his most reliable friend. Instead of talking to himself (as most people do), Marius wrote to himself. Here he examined and organized his thoughts. This helped him to think logically and deeply.

Marius was not as much of a philosopher as his friends and fellow students. But what few philosophies he produce, he wrote down in his notebook.

Writing was something he had in common with Jean Prouvaire, the poet in the Friends of the ABC. Grantaire ranted about it, alternately praising and mocking how they kept their thoughts in their pockets and sorted through them at the end of the day, or week, or year. Marius didn't mind, or if he did he didn't show it; but from then on he kept the habit a bit more private, though he took care not to be secretive about it. He never wrote down anything he might be ashamed of.

Marius later thought that the notebook must have been a Godsend, because it became instrumental in communicating with Cosette. He entrusted to her pages from his most recent notebook, revealing his heart to her before introducing himself to her.

It also proved less romantic and more practical, such as when he wrote his address down so he could be identified if found dead or unconscious at the barricade.

Twice Marius' notebooks, imparted to him by Aunt Gillenormand, saved his life.


	4. Eponine's Name

_Published August 9, 2012_

**Author's Note:** While reading the novel_ Les Misérables_ I came across a rather startling line, when Marius' grandfather, Monsieur Gillenormand, suddenly mentions someone named Eponine in reference to another person, Sabinus (page 1353 of the Signet Classics edition). I knew he couldn't have known about the character Eponine, so I tried to research who he was talking about. When I found my answer, it inspired this.

* * *

><p>"What's your name?" the traveler asked. He had been watching the two little girls play on the floor of the inn.<p>

Their parents always said to be polite to their clients, so she answered, "Eponine."

"Eponine. That's a pretty name. It's different."

Was it? Eponine had never given much thought to her name. It was just what it was; it was her.

She had been called pretty, but her name hadn't, until now.

One day she asked her parents individually how they had chosen her name. Her father simply said that her mother had found the name in some romance novel; he couldn't be bothered to remember any details.

It was her mother who explained, sounding both tender and stern, the origin of her name. "You were named after a saint. Eponine was the French name of the wife of a man called Julius Sabinus, the Roman governor of Gaul. Always remember that, daughter: you have a noble name. It means 'heroine.'"

As a preteen, it occurred to Eponine that her mother must be quite learned to know so much about a historical name. And if she talked about the origin of her name, it would make her sound smart, too.

As a teenager, Eponine clung to her name the way her father clung to the sign that had hung outside their inn at Montfermeil. She could use a different surname – Thénardier became Jondrette, among other aliases – but she refused to change her first name. It was the only thing about her that stayed the same through the years.

Life could take away her fortune, her happiness, even her family, but it couldn't take away her name. Eponine. Heroine.


	5. Fantine's Game

_Published November 10, 2012_

* * *

><p>"<em>Draw<em> a _ma_gic _cir_cle," Fantine sang, tracing a circle on Cosette's back. The toddler giggled as her mother poked a finger at her back. "Place _two_ eyes, a _nose_, and a _dot_." Cosette turned around, and Fantine held up her hand, extending all five fingers. "Which finger did it?"

Cosette pointed to the middle finger. "This one?"

"No!" Even when she guessed wrong, the game caused them both to laugh.

"This one?" She pointed to Fantine's index finger.

"That's _right!_ Very good, Cosette!"

* * *

><p>Cosette leaned over the edge of Gavroche's cradle. The baby was lying on his stomach, half asleep. Cosette reached out and traced a circle on his back, murmuring the words that she could hear so clearly in her mind. "Draw a magic circle. Place two eyes, a nose, and a dot."<p>

Gavroche opened his eyes slightly, looking dazed. Cosette held up her hand for him to see. "Which finger did it?"

"He's too stupid to know what you're saying," Eponine informed her from her spot at the dinner table.

Cosette merely glanced at the other girl, and then looked back at the baby. Gavroche was her favorite Thénardier, because he never scolded her or teased her or made her do chores.

"He's not stupid," Cosette said softly to herself. "He just hasn't had a chance to prove it."

Gavroche started to whimper, and Cosette rubbed his back soothingly, only to find herself drawing a circle again and thinking of her mother.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> My grandmother used to play that game when my sisters and I were toddlers. I know it's kind of silly but it's a nice childhood memory of mine, and I could imagine Fantine making up games like that to play with Cosette.


	6. Enjolras's Valor

_Published January 4, 2013_

**Author's Note:** This is dedicated to strukkfirst, who requested a chapter about Enjolras dying at the barricade.

* * *

><p>Enjolras was, in part, a philosopher. He thought deeply about things like life and death. He thought himself wise, when he accepted the fact that he must die. Over time that reality ceased to bother him. He would die one day; all that mattered to him was the manner of death. He would welcome the chance to use his death to advance a good cause, or a people, or an ideal.<p>

When they drank wine in the Café Musain, Grantaire downed glass after glass; but Enjolras drank slowly and savored each taste. He could enjoy himself, but unlike Grantaire, he didn't want to become so intoxicated by pleasure that he forgot to live. He wanted to make the most of his life as well as his death. He wanted his death to bring life to others.

Most of the people whose lives Enjolras touched died with him on the barricade. Only Marius survived to remember the leader who rose like the sun to guide his friends and comrades. There had been times when Marius envied Enjolras' firm belief and resolve and selflessness. But afterwards … how could he envy such qualities, when they had led Enjolras to his demise?

"You can still be proud of him," Cosette said gently, when he told her of his friend. "You can be thankful that you knew him while he was alive."

Marius nodded, but he felt that there should be more to it. "He would have wanted me—and others—to remember what he died for. He believed in freedom, and equality, and France. If those ideals can be realized, then Enjolras and all the others won't have died in vain."


	7. Mabeuf's Soliloquy

_Published February 6, 2013_

Father Mabeuf was alone in the crowd, even though he might have known a few of the insurrectionists. Courfeyrac was there, which meant Marius might show up. Another boy reminded him of the sprite-like girl who had watered his garden in the twilight …

He saw his life play before his eyes, as though he were looking down into a theater. He recalled his friendship with the Colonel Pontmercy, and how he had honored the man in his death by telling his son about him.

Father Mabeuf knew he would die if he stayed here. This fact did not bother him. He was a holy man, and he was long past fearing death.

He had contemplated death often, especially in recent times, since he and Mother Plutarch were falling further down the slope of poverty. He had wondered how much it cost to keep the two of them alive, and perhaps even wondered if death would be a solution for one or both of them.

Here was a holy way to die. It was almost as though God had given him this opportunity, to spare him the sin of deliberately taking his own life. Now, instead of dying slowly and quietly, he could be involved in something bigger than his own life and death.

Father Mabeuf had always abstained from having any political opinions of his own. But now, he stood alongside thinkers, his friends, his countrymen, the people.

His eyes met those of the leader, Enjolras, for the briefest of moments. The old man saw respect, reverence, fervor, and energy in the young revolutionary. Perhaps that was what Colonel Pontmercy had been like in his youth. It was no wonder that so many put their faith in him: a man like that emanated hope.

He heard no battle-cry, no patriotic song, no cacophony of gunshot. In fact all was deathly silent as he slowly climbed up the makeshift slope. No one tried to hinder him, nor did anyone try to help him.


	8. Montparnasse's Discovery

_Published April 5, 2013_

Montparnasse had some bond, some closeness, with Thénardier's children, mainly because he was closer to their ages than to the others in the gang. He found Gavroche alternately amusing and helpful, albeit sometimes annoying.

Of the two daughters, he preferred the elder, Eponine, mostly because she was closer to his age and more responsive to him. She was young, curious, and flirtatious. And he had been the only one really available to her.

_Humor me. Teach me._ He had complied, showing her how to tease and flirt and coax. Neither of them cared enough about the other to seek them out; but when they saw each other, they got on well enough. Perhaps they had been more than friends, yet they had remained less than lovers. It never came to more than a few kisses. Montparnasse had lost interest when he realized that Eponine still had some ideas about finding romance and love; she didn't want to have him just for the sake of having someone.

Montparnasse found them in the immediate aftermath of the insurrection, while he and other thieves scattered about Paris were scavenging and looting the dead bodies and barricades. He chanced to enter the Corinth when the soldiers had exited the building; he saw Gavroche lying next to a dead elderly man.

After his initial surprise, Montparnasse felt some pity and disappointment when he saw the child's body. Gavroche had been a good kid. He'd been reliable enough to call upon for help in Patron-Minette's breakout. He would have made a great thief, if he had lived long enough. No doubt he had been swept up in the excitement of the insurrection, the riots that were supposed to be a revolution.

"You had a good run, gamin," Montparnasse said aloud to the dead body. Then he quietly went out of the wineshop.

Another shock lay outside in the muddy puddles of rain and blood. There was a body lying there, dressed in a boy's clothes; but its hair was long, and the face was thin and feminine. Montparnasse recognize her. It was Eponine.

The last time he'd seen her had been just a few nights ago, when she boldly stood up to Patron-Minette for some unfathomable reason that they could not deduce. Why had she done that? And how had she ended up in a barricade?

Montparnasse supposed he would never know the answers. He sighed and touched the girl's forehead, brushing her dirty hair out of her face. At least it hadn't been a dull death. She hadn't frozen or starved slowly on the street. She had probably died being a part of something—something bigger than herself. Yes, Montparnasse thought, she would have liked that romantic idea.

"Au revoir, Eponine," Montparnasse said. "Until we meet again."

If he did see them again, it would most likely be in Hell. At least that gave him something to look forward to.


End file.
